The Tale Rewritten
by Frau Eva
Summary: Utena is thrust into the outside world, only to find out it is far stranger than she imagined. She will be forced to seek answers and find old acquaintances. Why did Akio choose them? Is there nothing that can fix this fractured fairy tale?
1. Chapter 1

Rewritten

By Frau Eva

Chapter 1

* * *

Author's Notes: Sorry to everyone who was enjoying this fic when it was deleted, or any of my writing. My e-mail account had been hacked into. From there, whoever it was received access to delete everything in my account. I'll be getting everything up again, starting with these multi-chapters because they seemed to have the most interest. Everything will continue on as usual and my e-mail has been changed. Please be patient with me though; finals are coming up, and I have a lot of things to fix since my e-mail was hacked. I'll try my best to get things running smoothly again!

* * *

Utena stopped to breathe, her eyes taking in the whole cavern. She shakily dropped the cover of her coffin to the ground. She was sweating, and not just from the heat of spring. Though she knew she must have slept a long while, her eyes felt heavy. The shock kept them open wide. She knew she had only seen the clothes she was wearing in books: black leggings, tan boots and belt of leather, and a green and white tunic over her chest. She pawed at them awkwardly, grasping the wool between trembling fingers. She realized with horror that nothing more was underneath, making her feel even more vulnerable and exposed. 

Her eyes flittered back and forth over her surroundings. Surrounding her were walls of rock, and a large opening full of sunlight far ahead of her. Layers of dried flowers covered the ground before her. Atop them all was a bouquet of fine red roses, still fresh and supple. One or two others showed various levels of decay, but most had been here long enough to crumble to shriveled pieces.

Flowers. Flowers for a coffin."It's as if I was dead," she said to herself. Logically, she should not be here. This is impossible. She should not have been asleep in the first place. She should be...at the arena. Her chest heaved painfully. The last moment she remembered was lying on the arena floor, the clash and clang of a million swords overhead. Then, searing pain. Nothing else. Her knees trembled slightly, and she resisted the urge to tumble backwards into the coffin.

"How...?" she asked, breath still heavy. Nothing answered her. She turned to look back at where she had laid only a moment before, seeing a small black cap and a sheathed sword. Her mouth was dry and cottony and her belly painfully empty. She picked up the sword, quickly pulling it out of its scabbard and resheathed it, as if she didn't believe it was real. She set them back down in the coffin before picking up the black cap and inspecting it. It was soft to the touch, with a large white feather attached by a little green jewel. She lay it over her head, brushing her two braids back over her shoulder.

With a shaky heave of her chest, she turned and collapsed back onto the coffin in a fit of sobs. Fat tears rolled easily down her cheeks and spilled onto its dusty surface.

She was too preoccupied to hear the light sound of footsteps coming towards her. The sound of a childlike laughter echoed through the cave, then stopped. Her head whipped up instantly.

Utena and two children stared at each other without a word, each wide-eyed as if they could not believe the other were real. The more she studied each strange garment, the more shocked and stiff she became. One was a girl of no more than ten–her arms full of wildflowers–wearing a simple white peasant dress covered in dirt. The small boy had one arm grabbing her skirt, the other carrying a bundle of flowers. He wore a dirty white tunic, and brown leggings that matched his hair and round eyes.

The girl suddenly leaned forward slightly and her eyes softened from shock to sympathy. "Don't cry," she said softly. With the girl's words, the boy seemed to loosen his grip on her dress.

Utena knew from her own memory that she should not have understood her. All her life, she could only speak Japanese. She barely even passed English class. What this girl spoke sounded like neither. She turned the words over in her mind; she knew them–knew their exact meaning–yet had no memory of the sound.

"Sorry! Sorry about that," Utena suddenly said, the new words stumbling out of her mouth. She was amazed at herself. 'Just roll with it,' she thought, 'I've seen a lot of strange things, and I'm definitely going to see more.' Utena recovered, quickly rubbed her hand across her eyes. She felt so silly crying in front of children.

"Ya shouldn't be sorry f' crying," the girl piped up, laying her wildflowers to the ground. The boy silently did the same. "Are ya sad because you're alone? The village will take care a' ya, Prince! We've always done so."

Utena smirked wryly, more a smile of pain than cheer. "No, no, it's not that. I'm sorry, but I'm not a Prince, little girl."

"But ya are! You are The Lovely Prince Utena!" the girl protested, "Everyone knows that!"

**"**Ya shouldn't say such things**," **the boy said shyly, barely able to look Utena in the eye, "If ya say something like that, sometimes it comes true. Mum always warns me 'bout that."

"Well, you can think that if it makes you happy," Utena said, "But just call me Utena. Not Prince. Just Utena, okay?"

The little girl's eyes almost seemed to sparkle. "Oh, I will! Ya can be certain of it! Thank ya so much!"

"Well...you're welcome." Utena smiled, slightly puzzled. "Now, could you please tell me where I am?"

"You're in Flussegen."

"Where is that?"

The girl stared back, looking immensely confused. "Don't ya remember anythin'?"

Utena remembered perfectly, but not in any way that helped her. She would probably be better off had she lost her memory. "No...I don't remember anything."

The girl looked up at her sorrowfully. "Not even your brother?"

Something was definitely wrong here. Deeply, deeply wrong. "I'm sorry, little girl, but you must be mistaken...I...I don't have any siblings."

The girl shook her head, looking up at Utena with pity. "Tis sad. Ya cannot even remember the reason ya became a Prince." Her face then brightened, long brown hair swinging as she reached forward and took Utena's hand. "But don't worry! You're awake, so the spell has already started wearing off! Come with me. We'll take care of you."

"Ah, hold on, hold on, I have to get something," she said. The girl quickly drew her hand away, and Utena leaned over the coffin and grabbed the sheathed sword. "Alright," she said as she turned back to the girl. "I can go now."

The girl smiled. "Just follow us," she said as she began walking out of the cave. "C'mon, Albrecht, we'll show her to Papa." The boy hurried to walk beside her. The bed of dried flowers crunched underfoot as they walked. They made their way to the cavern's opening.

"Oh, I almost fergot! My name is Adelheid, and this is my brother Albrecht. It's a pleasure to meet ya, Pri-, ah, Utena." Adelheid stopped for a moment to draw her skirts up and curtsy, as if well practiced.

Utena smiled genuinely for the first time since she had awoken. "Nice to meet you." With exaggerated gestures, she drew one hand up to her chest and bowed. This overwhelmed Adelheid with giggles, jumping and blushing. Her brother watched silently with wide eyes.

Adelheid soon calmed down and began walking again, both Utena and Albrecht following her. They had now reached a sun-dappled forest, the trees looking hazy in the intense light.

Utena sighed. Her limbs ached from disuse. She was covered in dirt and sweat, her clothes sticking to her uncomfortably. Her belly still ached with emptiness and her throat was dry and scratchy. But thinking about better times was even more painful, and thinking about the present and future only confused and frightened her. Perhaps, she thought, she should just stop thinking altogether.

She took a deep breathe. 'My name is Tenjou Utena. I have no siblings. I have no parents. I live with my aunt Yurika in Hokkaido, Japan. I attend Ohtori Academy in Houou. I am fourteen and my blood type is B. And there is certainly, certainly no such thing as magic spells.'

Who was she kidding? This wasn't going to get her anywhere. "So, Adelheid, what exactly do you know about me, or–I mean–what I was like? What's that whole flower thing about?"

"Oh, that," Adelheid said, breaking into a skip, "You had died a long time ago. Well, not died. We thought you had died saving our town from the dragon. But you didn't look wounded, so we put you in a glass coffin above ground to make sure. That happens sometimes, where someone'll just be enchanted."

"That happened to Uncle Friedhelm," Albrecht piped up.

"Aye, but usually they don't sleep for as long as Prince Utena did, and she didn't age neither. Uncle woke up in a few days. The village witch looked at ya. She said that she'd never seen such a spell b'fore and that it would have ta be very, very strong."

"It happened again though, remember Adelheid?" Albrecht said, tugging on her dress. "Her Ladyship's children fell into an enchanted sleep for a long time too."

"It happened in other places too," she agreed, "But you were the first, well 'cept your brother–but that's somethin' diff'rent. 'Course, this is all before we were alive. I think you've been sleeping 'bout fourteen years now."

"Fourteen years? You have to be kidding me!" Utena yelped, "I mean, I'm only fourteen! That's...impossible!"

"You didn't age, Pr-, ah, Utena," she replied, "You've always looked jus' the same since I've been coming here. And people have been coming here to give ya flowers ever since you fell into an enchanted sleep; they say the same."

Utena took a deep breath and simply accepted it. Okay, so she fell into an enchanted sleep while she was fighting a dragon. Sure. And this, apparently, is not so strange here. "Didn't you also say I had a brother? What exactly do you know about me, Adelheid?"

"That's what people have told me. Your father is a King, and your mother is some foreign woman. Your brother is some person named Zarasai–he was cursed, and you had to become a Prince to lift it."

"It's not like that," Albrecht piped up, "A hundred lives have ta be saved in Zarasai's name. Being a Prince jus' seems like the best way to do it."

"Fine, fine," she said, giving her brother a glare. "Anyway, you're The Lovely Prince Utena, who saves the lives of people everywhere to cure her brother. That's the most important part of the story."

"It's jus' the part you remember," said Albrecht.

"Quiet, you," his sister replied, the siblings scowling at each other.

"Hey, hey, don't fight, you two!" Utena said sweetly. "I appreciate you being able to tell me what you did. That'll be a big help to me."

Adelheid's eyes almost seemed to glimmer at Utena's words. "I'm sure everyone will be able ta tell ya even more! They were alive to see it. Oh, won't they be surprised to see you with us!"

Now that Adelheid had led them through the thick forest, Utena was beginning to see houses off in the distance. They would have to cross the fields first, which were flat for spring planting. Men and women walked the fields with sacks full of seeds, sprinkling it along the ploughed earth. At first, the workers paid them no heed. But as they came closer, a woman raised her head and quirked her brows at Utena's expensive clothing. Her face slowly faded into a look of recognition, then shock. "It's her!" she yelled, pointing and waving.

Those nearest came running first. Word spread through the acres of field, wave after wave hearing the news and immediately bursting into a run. Utena stood there paralyzed as they engulfed her, myriads of voices shouting questions and expressions of shock. She could feel callused hands patting her on the back. She stood wide-eyed in the middle of the whirling storm of bodies, too stunned to respond. Something then occurred to her, snapping her body back into movement. "Adelheid! Albrecht!"She looked around, not seeing them. Were they trampled? Thrown to the side? Where?

The crowd was startled to silence at the words of the Prince. A moment later, a voice piped up with, "Here I am!" She ducked out from under the legs of the adults, dragging Albrecht after her. Tears were welling up in his eyes and his walk was shaky.

"Did you get hurt?"she asked. The boy nodded slowly, then erupted into sobs. "Here, look, I'll carry you. It'll be okay!"She was about to lift him on her back when a figure forcefully parted his way through the crowd.

"Are they here?" he said, now staring wide-eyed at the image of the Prince holding his crying boy.

"He...he got trampled on. I was just going to carry–"

"Oh, don't worry yourself with it! He's my son, after all!"The man gently took Albrecht from Utena's arms and hoisted the boy onto his back. The crowd stayed mostly silent now, with an occasional hand thrusting out to paw at the Prince.

"We found her, Papa! We were bringin' her flowers, and she was awake! We found her!" Adelheid shouted, jumping up and down.

"Aye, aye, Adelheid, calm yourself," he said to her, then turned his head up to look at the Prince, "I hope they wern't any trouble." He smiled sheepishly.

It was strange, Utena thought, to see a man so deferential to a girl while simultaneously towering over her. "No, they weren't any trouble at all. They were actually very helpful."

"Oh, good, good!" he bellowed.

"Guntram, Lanzo still has her horse, remember?" a man said, putting a hand on a part of Guntram's back not covered by Albrecht. "Perhaps we should get her to the village."

"This deserves a celebration!" someone shouted out.

"We can't jus' stop planting, fool! Are we ta celebrate now, but starve in winter?" yelled another.

"Fourteen years! Fourteen years!"

"Let her rest! She's gotta be disoriented!"

"Are ya crazy? She's gotten enough rest fer a lifetime!"

"If I may," Utena said softly. The uproar lasted for a second more before abruptly ending. "Uh, I mean, you really shouldn't put everything on hold just for me. I'd appreciate some help, but you don't have to go to any trouble on account of me."

"Alright now," the man next to Guntram said, "Now, who amongst us can spare a hand to show her to the village?"

"We could have Alban do it," a woman shouted out, "It's not as if he does anythin' anyway."

"A fine idea," Guntram said, then turning to the forest, "Alban! Get out here!" Utena craned her neck to see who would be accompanying her. Nothing was yet visible but the trees.

"What do you want? I was just gettin' some nice acorns..."

"This is important! Get out here!" shouted Guntram.

"Everythin' to you people is important..." She could hear something running towards them from the forest, and squinted to see who it was.

"Fine, I'm here. What's all the fuss then?"

Utena's eyes widened. It was a talking pig. Her eyes quickly rolled back into her head and she collapsed. The crowd erupted into fright, her falling body caught by the edge of the crowd.

"Just a faint, just a faint," Guntram said, "She must be hungry after fourteen years, after all."

* * *

Once upon a time, two children walked alone and hungry in the dark of night. "What'll we do, Hansel?" she sobbed, tugging onto her brother's dusty shirt for comfort. "What'll we do? We'll never find our way back to Flussegen now!" 

Hansel drew his sister closer. The trail of crumbs leading back to the cottage was gone. He stared into the thick blackness of the forest ahead, remembering their parents' hushed but fierce late-night argument.

"There's no food in this house, foolish woman! Not since the famine! Either those brats leave, or we might as well start chopping wood for our coffins!"

Hansel sighed. He quickly looked around them before turning back to his sister."We'll find the way back, Gretel. We'll find it. I promise." Hansel began trudging farther into the thick woods. "Come along." She sobbed but obediently followed.

Nowhere they went showed any signs of life. At least, human life. The dark trees towered over the orphans, the chirps and hoots of nocturnal beasts seeming to come from nowhere and everywhere at once.

"What if the fay get us, Hansel? What if the trolls get us?" she whispered, voice shaky. The most painful part was that he could not assure her of anything. Her big brother could do nothing but lead them farther into a den of monsters. "We'll find home again. Do not worry. Just stay next to me, Gretel. Never leave my side."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

* * *

"Oh, you're awake!"a voice said. Utena could not recognize it. "Who would've thought that after wakin' up, you'd fall right back asleep!" A faint giggle accompanied the words.

"I...where am I?" Utena asked. She recognized a likeness in the woman's features; the wide forehead, thin brows, and a nose that tapered into a round bump at the tip.

"You're in my home, which is quite the honor if I do say so! You've been asleep for a good many hours now. I'm Brigitta. My husband said you have already met my children."

"Adelheid? Albrecht?"

"Aye! I hope they're good to ya." Brigitta's hand swept loose strands of blond hair back into the kerchief around her head. "They can be a handful at times."

"No, no, they were wonderful! Very helpful," Utena said, eyes half-lidded.

Brigitta smiled. "Good. I'm glad they remembered their niceties. But ya must be powerful hungry! You've been sleeping for sixteen years, after all." She lay a clay plate with bread and cheese on Utena's lap. "It's not much, but it'll take me a bit ta have dinner ready. I'm very sorry, Prince."

"No, thank you. This is fine. But please don't call me Prince. It's unnecessary," Utena said.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! If I've upset you–"

"No, no. You haven't at all. I just...well, call me Utena. Just Utena."She smiled, something then occurring to her. "If I get to call you by Brigitta, then you should be able to call me Utena."

Brigitta's face brightened. "Oh, I...I don't know what to say! I...you are even better than the story said...Utena."

Utena's eyes went from half-lidded to fully open and she quickly sat up. "Story? Adelheid and Albrecht kept mentioning it. Do you know anything about my story?"

Brigitta cocked an eyebrow. "Pardon me...Utena, but that's a rather queer question. Ya should be able to tell that better than anyone else."

"I...I don't remember," Utena said, suddenly feeling a lump in her throat, "At least, I don't remember anything about that."

"Ya don't remember your brother Zarasai? Yer father? Yer mother? Yer kingdom?"

Utena shook her head. She felt like a man shipwrecked, reeling from being adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

"Then do ya remember anything?"

Utena's head tilted downward, staring idly at the plate of food in her lap. "I don't remember anything about this place. I don't remember this town, or anything like it. I...it's like I've been dreaming of another world, another life."

"'Zounds! What did ya see? Were you still a Prince?"Brigitta asked, obviously excited, "Thas' a story if I ever heard one!" Utena suddenly began to shake. "Utena?"

"I...I couldn't save her." A tear splattered onto the plate.

"Prince Utena!"

"You can't call me that!" Utena's head suddenly snapped up. "I was never a Prince! It's nice that you all think so, but it's not true! In the end, I couldn't save her! What good is a Prince if he can't save a Princess? I'm just a girl, dammit! A Prince can't be a girl!"

Brigitta eyes were wide, her body still, silently watching Utena sob to herself. The peasant woman looked like a child who had just been scolded. After a moment, she finally summoned her courage and put a hand on Utena's shoulder. "There, there..." she said, then slowly took Utena's head onto her shoulder. She watched the savior of their village sob like a child, herself trying to regain her senses enough to comfort her. "It'll be fine, I assure you. I don't know wot happened in your dreams, but...you are here now. You're in the real world again. T'was a dream. As real an' as painful as it seemed, ya must put it behind you. 'Tis nothing more than a bad dream."

"I can't be," Utena sobbed, "Himemiya..."

"It musta seemed real, I know. The witch said ya were under a powerful enchantment. Something so powerful to keep ya asleep and alive for so long...I don't doubt that it seemed real."

"No...Anthy..."

"I'm sorry, Utena."

"No!" Utena howled, lifting her head up suddenly. Brigitta's body jolted, feeling Utena's fingers clutch her desperately. After a moment, it subsided. The scream stopped with a scratch of her throat. Her body slowly went limp, her head falling onto Brigitta's shoulder.

Brigitta took a deep breath. She waited a moment, as if believing that any moment it would happen again. She then hesitantly began lowering Utena back onto the bed. "There now. We've gotta just get things out sometimes," she said, "I'll be back up with some water. Iffin' ya need to talk about anythin', I'll be here soon."

* * *

Anthy could feel herself breaching into the next plane. She opened her eyes, seeing the black abyss of the between-places fade into the grassy plains of the world of her birth. Although she had made this journey countless times, she never realized until now how beautiful the trip was: the feeling of your own body fading into the fabric of the universe; the sight of the inky void, which never failed to make her shudder; the view of the green fields that she remembered so well. She knew it was so beautiful because, for her, it would be the last time.

She looked around her. Well, couldn't wear such an outfit here. Her clothes became darker and ragged out of habit, then stopped when she realized that she couldn't, no, wouldn't be that anymore. What could she wear then? A peasant's dress? A gown? Being inconspicuous was a factor, so a peasant dress it was. Something, a cloak and hood, to protect her from the elements. She was ready.

Her familiar stirred. "Chu?"

"Oh, I'm not forgetting you," she said, gently placing him on the ground. "You won't be able to perch on my shoulder, but it'll have to do. We mustn't be so obvious now that we're in the outside world."

"Woof."

But how to go about it, this search? She couldn't search this whole plane by conventional methods. By the time Anthy found her, she would be dead. Even a spell of this length and width could take weeks. "I suppose I'll have to fall back on old devices."

Anthy lifted her hand over the land. "Arise, shadows." In spite of the sun, a film of darkness slowly overcame the plains. "Search for the one called Utena Visvaldas." The shadows then went rocketing across the land, leaving Anthy far behind as it rolled off into the horizon. The hills were bright once again.

"I might as well do a bit of traveling myself. There's no sense in staying here."

"Woof."

* * *

Utena felt better. Not good, but better. Although there was still the ache in her muscles and her heart, she now had her fill of food and drink. Brigitta had brought her another plate of food once dinner began. She now acted towards Utena with a mixture of wariness and reverence, as if a pilgrim to the temple of a fickle god. Brigitta had said that Utena's arrival was great enough of an occasion to slaughter a pig–not the talking one, she reassured her. Utena felt guilty for eating the amount of food she did, but nothing less stopped the rumbling of her stomach. Brigitta only encourage her to eat more, as if the offerings would quell the Prince's heart and mind.

At first, Utena didn't think she could eat much of it. The pork looked delicious, and the brown bread was fine enough, but the stuff they called 'leek pottage' absolutely frightened her. She wanted to be polite though–can't turn down a free meal, after all–and had hesitantly taken a few spoonfuls. Surprisingly enough, the taste agreed with her–perhaps too much. Like so many things here, it was uncomfortably familiar.

Even though she was worried, terrified, she tried to be thankful. She liked the children, and this place wasn't much bigger than a cramped apartment in Japan she was used to. She found herself liking the place, even without modern amenities. The loft was dark, but candlelight had its own particular charms. There were far greater things to for her to worry about, certainly, than the lack of electricity or air-conditioning. She felt bad each time Brigitta went out of her way to help her, but–even if she hated to admit it–this made the situation much more tolerable.

The light from the candle flickered. Utena found the darkness to be oddly soothing. She tried to clear her mind, as if in zen meditation. She was never one for religious things, but the only thing that really calmed her was simply not thinking–about the past or the present. She could hear Bartram's raucous laughter below, easily overcoming the pleasant hum of conversation.

Suddenly the laughter ceased. All noise ceased. It then began again, but something in the sound was erratic and uneasy. It was quieter, afraid. She then heard footsteps on the stairs. Utena bolted upright in bed.

"Utena?" a quavering voice called out. It was Brigitta. Utena could just see her shadow past the door's threshold. "The witch would like to see you."

"Who–" Utena started, but then thought against it. "Certainly." A form quickly moved past Brigitta. Utena's eyes widened.

"I'll leave you alone then!" Brigitta said thankfully, immediately bolting back down the stairs.

Utena strained her eyes to see what lay before her. She slowly made out hems in a black cloak, which immediately eased her mind. It wasn't a formless black blob of evil, and anything was better than that. Still, there was no bit of pink flesh visible; it was as if the fabric could stand by its own, formless.

"I thought it would do you well, child," the cloak said, "if you and I had a talk." A hand suddenly thrust from the black depths of cloth. It quickly threw off the hood, inky rivulets of black hair spilling out. She looked at Utena with eyes somewhere between blue and green. She looked no older than Brigitta, but with an expression far sterner than the mother was capable of. "I would like to know if you have any knowledge pertaining to...certain events."

"Uh..."Utena stammered, "Well, I'll do my best."

A small smile crept up the witch's cheeks. "Hm. Your speech is somewhere between a nobleman and a commoner. How queer...how interesting." Utena only stared dumbly in response. "In any case, that is neither here nor there, child. Today I had received word of not only your awakening, but Her Ladyship's children as well."

"H-her Ladyship?"

"Yes, Her Ladyship...who lives in the manor," the witch gestured in a general direction, stopping when she was only met by Utena's confused stare. "Ah, that is right! You had fallen prey to the great sleep first. Her Ladyship's children succumbed not long after you. With your brother cursed to sleep so long, at first I thought your condition was simply a new part of the spell not yet revealed. Then I received word of Her Ladyship's children, and people all over the land falling into great sleeps."

"And now they're awake too?" Utena asked. She then blinked suddenly, and asked, "Wait...you know something about my brother?"

"Aye, child, everyone knows your story and that of your brother. It is my job to be sure of that. He has been awakened before you, but the others happened only immediately after you. Whatever this is, it must certainly be important. As dead Kings have risen to defend their people in times of great need, so have you and others risen after fourteen long years. Nothing is without meaning."

"What do you know about my brother?" she asked earnestly.

The witch sighed. "I have told you he is awake! The first part of his curse is finished! I know you have done much for him, but could you concentrate on–"

"Actually..." Utena said hesitantly, "I...I don't really remember anything about him. Or anything. I never really had a family before, and it, well, I'd just really like to..."

The witch jolted slightly. "You do not remember?" Utena nodded dumbly. The witch sighed and shook her head. "How unfortunate. I suppose you would not know anything after all."

Utena's head lowered, her hands gripping the sheets. "All I can remember is what...well, I guess, a dream."

The witch's eyes widened. "Dreams are important. At least you remember that. What have you dreamed in your sleep of sleeps for all these years, Prince? What have you seen?"

Utena did not look up at her, but only sunk her head farther into her shoulders. "It's so hard to explain. I don't know where to begin."

At that, the witch stepped forward, closer into the light. Utena's looked up at her suddenly. As she saw the fire dance in the witch's dark eyes, she realized that they were far older than her body betrayed. A spiderweb of shallow wrinkles was woven across her face, too small to be seen before. "You will have to begin somewhere, nonetheless."

Utena sighed. "I...I was in a world so completely different from this one. I...really can't explain it to you. All I can remember is living in that world for fourteen years. Now, coming here, this place seems unimaginable, unreal. I don't think you want me telling you every detail of my uh, life there."

"Do not assume. Start with whatever seems most important."

Utena clutched the sheets tightly. "Well, there were some weird things. Weird, at least, from what I knew about life there. When I was little, my parents died and a prince comforted me. But..." Tighter. "He wasn't a prince. Not anymore, I think. And...I said I would protect her. She was his sister, and..." Her knuckles whitened, and her voice lowered to whisper. "She had to go through so much...I said I would save her. But I couldn't. There was this...game..."

"That is enough, child. Obviously the experience is still fresh," the witch said. Utena raised her head when she felt a hand on her shoulder. The witch looked at her with pity, brows raised and mouth slightly curled into a frown. "That is all I needed to know about your dream."

"However," the witch said, taking her thin hand from Utena's shoulder. "I can still excise knowledge from you, whether you remember or not. Her Ladyship and I are very interested in the matter."

"It won't hurt, will it?"

The witch chuckled. "Of course not. Many would have to pay greatly for me to divine quite this much. Her Ladyship had paid for it herself. You should count yourself lucky." She turned towards the door. "You should be at the edge of the western woods by dawn."

"Uh...which way is west?"

The witch turned to look at Utena, bewildered. "Sleep has not just taken your memories, but your mind whole." She sighed and calmed her features. "It is not the forest near the fields, where you slept. It is on the opposite edge, to the left of Her Ladyship's manor, to the right of the mill. You do know which is left and right, do you not?"

Utena's brows furrowed slightly. "Yes."

"Good. Then I shall count on you being there. We shall go to my cottage for the rites, then I'm sure Her Ladyship would like to be introduced to you once that is done."

"Will you, I mean, while you're doing those things, tell me about my family? If it's not too much to ask, I'd–"

"Say no more," said the witch, walking towards the door. "My duty lies in stories; everything else is a mere extension. I will be proud to tell you all about your brother." With that, the witch glided towards the door and out of the room.

Utena could hear voices piping up again once the witch descended the stairs. They hailed her with joy this time, knowing that they had not–as they feared–run amiss with her. Once she heard the door slam shut, the hum of conversation was just as it had been before. Once again, she was left with the soft murmur of voices and the surrounding darkness. Utena's gaze fell to her lap. The candle flickered for a moment before coming back in full force.

"My brother." Utena turned the word over in her mind for the first time, tasting it. For the first time since Anthy, she could feel burning warmth in her heart. The feeling swelled and expanded–rising like bread in an oven–until her whole chest was filled with joy. She felt as if it would spill out of her, eyes filled with burgeoning tears. She took a deep breath and held them back. Her eyes crinkled slightly as she smiled.

Utena pulled the sheets back, raised herself from the bed, and walked out of the room and down the steps to join them.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

* * *

The morning was hazy grey from rain, the sun straining to break through cloying fog. Utena's boots squished onto the grass. These boots held up better, she thought, much better than sneakers. Even if she loved a good jog, the aftermath of a rain never failed to make sneakers soggy. She would much prefer the feeling of wet grass on bare toes than a wet sock sticking to her skin. Rainwater felt cleansing, pure.

The lines of cottages disappeared in her mind's eye, and she was back in Hokkaido. She was running, walking across desolate fields of snow, the roads along shallow rice paddies, and a warm earth full of growth in summer. When she lived with Aunt Yurika, it seemed like everyone wanted to leave the fields for the packed concrete of Tokyo. Not her. Even when the summer seemed unbearably short and she would be forced to confine herself to the house, she never wanted the city-life. At least she still would have the fields to return to in the spring, to hope for in the dark of winter. Tokyo was a world of smog-stained office buildings and neon lights.

Utena drifted from her reverie when the village began to stir. Men, women, and children slowly began to pour from their thatched houses. The men were out immediately, off to tend to the fields. The women had other duties first, boiling porridge and tending to their small herb gardens. They were a people near to the heart of nature, their culture born from soil and rain.

A man–Lanzo, Bartram had told her earlier–was leading his livestock out to pasture; he looked like he was having a rough time of it. The lone bull snorted irritably at Lanzo's jabs, ring jangling from his nose with each huff. A calf stopped to push its pink nose into his mother's warm belly for a drink. The geese, however, had quickly waddled out, now squawking happily to greet the wet morning. Lanzo was the one who had cared for her horse while she had slept. It would be old for such a journey back, Bartram had said, but an old horse was better than none.

They walked past her towards the fields, many of them slowing to stare at her for a moment. The children were less restrained, and often had to be herded back into the fold by their mother. This was April, the sowing season. The villagers would have to perform boon-work for such a busy time. Bartram had laughed when he had to explain it to her, saying, "I knew any Lord didn't know nothin' about anythin'! What wit all that complainin'!"Brigitta had turned her sorrowful brown eyes on him and whispered into his ear, his demeanor changing to reverence immediately. "Beggin' yer pardon," he muttered with embarrassment, "I didn' know about yer...uh...unusual condition." Utena had sighed, knowing that even with her memory restored, she still might know little about the peasants that had toiled under her.

She set her sights on the windmill. She'd have to meet the witch to the right of it. The structure was tall and rickety, its wooden blades jutting into the sky. Tall grass grew at its base, every now and then tousled by a gust of wind.

Utena turned her head when she heard the sound of pounding hooves and the jangle of tack. It was the Messor and the Hayward, leaving their homes to do their job in inspecting the field work. She could see that the houses around the castle had wider frames and a full second story instead of a loft. The Messor slowed his horse upon seeing Utena, looking at her suspiciously. She returned the expression. Brigitta had not spoken fondly of them, and his actions were winning him no further favor. He curled his lip disdainfully before silently moving on.

The woods were hazy with fog; Utena could see nothing. She worried that perhaps she was late, that the witch had already left in a huff. But as if on cue, a black form surfaced from the haze. She threw off her hood and looked Utena straight on. "Are you prepared?"

"I guess so," Utena said hesitantly.

"There is no guessing in this. Either you are, or you are not. Come," the witch said, gesturing with her thin hand. "We will go." The witch then turned back and reentered the fog, her beckoning hand being the last to disappear. Utena dutifully followed.

This was the first time Utena ever felt claustrophobic outdoors. The fog grew thicker between the tightly-packed trees, as if the mist originated from its dark depths. The trees loomed over her, blocking all but tiny specks of sunlight. She felt the urge to reach out and grab the witch's cloak–to not lose track of her–but decided against it. She did not know the woman well, did not know what might upset her. From the villagers reactions to her, she definitely did not want to risk it.

As morning crept towards afternoon, the sun burned away the mist. Now it was humid in its place, Utena feeling her clothes stick tightly to her skin. Green vines and twigs caught at her, sometimes too forcefully for her to believe they were inanimate. As they walked closer to the house, the overgrowth became thicker, taller, greener. The trees seemed even more tightly packed together.

"Is it close now?" Utena asked. "Is it coming up soon?"

"Close? It is just up ahead."

Utena stared at her, puzzled. The thick overgrowth crunched beneath her feet. Sometimes she couldn't walk on top of it and her foot would sink in, making her worry each time that she would lose her boot. "Where is it then?"

"Right in front of you."

"You must be kidding me," Utena said, slumping forward, "There's nothing in front of us. Nothing but more trees!"

"Secret things must be kept secret. Hidden things must be hidden."

"Whatever."

"Do not dismiss it, child! The world you live in revolves around these truths. I know you are tired and confused, and tired of being confused, but you must take heed."

"Sorry, sorry," Utena sighed, putting her hand to her forehead. Utena followed the witch forward without another word. The witch passed her hand over a giant gnarled tree, almost lovingly. She continued walking around it, her hand sliding over rough bark.

Utena's eyes widened when she finally saw it. The witch's home was made from a living tree. Alterations were made with wood to make it wider, but the main part of her home was the cavernous tree. The tree bent over the top as if to shelter the witch, to make its leaves her roof. A separate structure with a brick smoke stack stood not far off.

"Come in, come in," said the witch, opening the door wide for Utena. She stepped in carefully, unsure of herself. "What is–"

"Oh, I have almost forgotten," said the witch, stepping towards a shelf to pick up a pair of sheers. She approached Utena again and lifted up a pink braid.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing!" Utena yelped.

"What you agreed to, child. I will not cut off much, so stop your fussing." The witch sliced off a few raggedy ends, the pink threads of hair falling into her open hand.

"I don't remember agreeing to–" The witch was out the door before she could finish. Utena poked her head out the door and saw the witch entering the small brick house. Smoke puffed out from the stack a few seconds later. Utena sighed and turned back into the house.

Utena had not seen so many vials in her life. She wasn't sure what any of them were, but the entire back wall of the cottage was covered in shelves full of them. She stepped closer. Some were full of an unknown liquid, some full of herbs, others full of ghastly things she did not dare to guess. Next to the shelves were instruments, mostly deerskin drums of various sizes and wooden pipes.

The other side of the cottage had shelves mostly covered in stones. Some were large rocks that looked as if the witch had chipped them off the side of a mountain herself, the biggest sitting on the dirt floor. Others were small and colorful, fit for jewelry. A few other items were interspersed between the rocks–metal daggers, candles, and glass bottles full of paint. A wooden stool sat next to the shelves, near the witch's small cot with strange symbols drawn onto the ground.

The witch returned, looking satisfied. "It burned quick and bright," she said, as if Utena should have understood her.

"Will you tell me my story now?" Utena said after a pause, smiling hopefully.

The witch sighed. "You are like a child. Sit down." She gestured towards the stool. Utena obeyed. The witch crouched down before her and took Utena's hands in hers.

"Once upon a time," the witch said, not looking up from inspecting Utena's fingers, "In a far-away kingdom, a King sojourned across his domain. He stayed for the night in the house of his vassal, who lavished him with dazzling gifts and entertainment. Each and every night was a new grand ball, with singing and dancing until the first light of dawn. However, the King found himself bored.

"Knowing the penchant his master had for the hunt, his vassal suggested he gather up a hunting party and set out in the morning. 'I warn you though, my King,' said his vassal, 'That for your own good, you should not enter the forest behind the lake. The peasants refuse to enter it no matter how badly they need a bit of game, and even my men fear it.'

"However, the King was the fearless sort and refused to listen. The vassal, seeing the obstinance in the King, told him, 'If you must, my liege, at least take these with you.' The vassal gave him a great sword made of steel and flint, as well as a bundle of Forget-me-nots. The King accepted them, but was confused by his vassal's strange gifts. The next morning, the King had taken his hunting party down towards the lake–which itself was a clearer blue than any lake should ever be, the forests dotted with heather and bluebells..." The witch trailed off. "When did you last cut your nails?"

Utena stared at her, bewildered. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Remember what we are here for, child."

"I can't remember anything. I definitely don't remember that!"

"Hm. That is right..." the witch said to herself, momentarily stroking her chin. "This will make things more difficult."

Utena tried to conceal her frustration, making her smile strained. "Could you, uh, please continue?"

"Aye, aye," said the witch, rubbing over Utena's nails with the tips of her fingers. "But open your mouth. I have more work to do."

Utena's brows lifted, but she still obeyed. The witch squinted to stare into Utena's open mouth, finally drawing her fingers into the open space and running the tips across her teeth. Utena yelped wordlessly in protest. "Quit your fussing. You agreed to this," said the witch. She finished quickly and removed her fingers, Utena immediately clamping down on the empty space. "So like a child."

"Are you going to tell me the rest?" Utena pleaded.

"Of course. But first, stand up and take off your clothes."

"What! No!"

The witch huffed. "Royalty and your insensible modesties! I am not some swain intent on stealing your maidenhead. I am here to do work!"

Utena's eyes were wide, her lips drawn back in a grimace. She did not want to risk angering the witch, and knew even past her reservations that she meant nothing by it. But just how invasive was she planning on getting with her clothes off?

"Do you want me to continue the story or not?"

Utena sighed deeply, rose to her feet, and slowly began slipping off her clothes. A deep blush made it way from her cheeks down to the rest of her body, revealing itself immediately after the expanse of skin was revealed. She made a pile in front of her, which the witch quickly slid aside with her foot. The witch stood in front of her and watched her squirm. "A good girl," she said simply, rewarding Utena with a smile. The naked girl was too self-conscious to notice.

"W-what exactly are you doing?" Utena asked meekly.

"Looking for moles, scars, birthmarks. What they are and where they are is very important," she said, eyeing Utena up and down. "In any case, shall I continue with the story?"

"P-please."

"The King and his party were stopped by a beautiful maiden on a white horse, a drawn sword in hand. She had eyes as blue as the lake before them and long hair like the petals of spring flowers. The woman was dressed like a noblewoman, but with clothes far finer than the King had ever seen. 'This is the forest of my ancestry, and none but my own may pass,' said the maiden.

"The King was outraged, but said nothing since the woman unsettled him greatly. He sent his men after her, who were each–one by one–felled by her great sword. He was soon alone, but the King was still a quick-witted man. 'I am sorry if my trespassing have offended. However, it would not be thus if we were to be married.' In this way, the King hoped to gain a bride and still save his neck.

"The maiden was reluctant. 'Only if you best me shall I marry you. Even then, you must never know my name. So do not ask me or any other, for then I will be forced to bring our family to ruin. However, if you lose, your head shall adorn my mantle.'

"As they fought, the King thought it strange that the maiden should so suddenly weaken when faced with his new sword. He was no better a fighter than his men, perhaps even worse. The King was certainly ignorant of the ways of the forest," said the witch, stopping to share a haughty smile with Utena, then continued suddenly when she saw that the naked girl did not understand this either. "He then remembered the other gift, and quickly threw the Forget-Me-Nots at the maiden's face."

"Doesn't seem very fair of him," Utena said simply.

"Shush, shush," said the witch, poking a mole on Utena's back with her index finger as she circled the girl. "The maiden shrieked and wailed as if struck, allowing the King to knock the sword from her hand. Now beaten, she obediently followed the King back to his kingdom and the two were soon married. The King set aside her sword to be used by their first son, and onward unto each generation. " The witch paused for a moment. "Lift up your arms. I want to get a better look at them."

Utena did just as the witch told her. "That was a weird story..." she blurted.

"Silly child, that is not the end of it," the witch said, inspecting the underside of the Prince's arms. "Now, they lived happily together for many years, the King knowing neither her name nor where she came from nor what she was. His Queen bore him two children, a boy and a girl. However, after many years, the King became anxious. He had lived and shared a kingdom with this woman, yet knew nothing of her! The mystery of his victory against her haunted him, as well as his children's aversion to the very same sword. It troubled him greatly, and–one afternoon while walking through his garden–he could stand it no longer. He yelled out, 'Who is this woman to whom I am married, whom I won in battle in the woods of the West so long ago?'

"The plants and creatures laughed at him. "The woods of the West are ruled by the Fay King Visvaldas, whose daughter went missing many years ago! Oh, what a jest, for a fay princess to be married to a man! Vitalija Visvaldas is married to a mortal!'

"The Queen soon caught word, for the entire forest had soon erupted with the news. For breaking his word, she placed a curse on their only son Zarasai. 'Zarasai shall sleep a long and enchanted sleep, but even if he wakens–he will be like the dead. Only if a hundred lives are saved by my sword will he be saved.' Her white horse then appeared outside the castle, and took her away just as she had come.

"The King, already beginning to grow feeble with age, was struck hard by these happenings. He was too sick to leave his bed, yet alone remove Zarasai's curse. The lineage, it seemed, was hopelessly lost–just as the woman had promised." The witch paused for a moment. "You can put your arms down, you know."

"But if they have another kid, then how could the lineage stop? That doesn't make any sense," Utena said, flopping her arms back to her sides.

"Hmm. I see why you did what you did," said the witch. "You are quite a queer one."

"Seriously, are you going to answer that?"

"Nay," said the witch. She then turned to look Utena in the face, her voice becoming more tender. "But the daughter knew the duty lay with her now. She took up her mother's sword and swore to become a noble Prince in her brother's place, and save him and her family from the curse."

Utena was silent, lost to her own thoughts. Her brows knitted together in concentration. She stared into nothing, finally seeming less concerned with her naked state. Her head swung around to look at her sword and scabbard amongst her pile of clothes. "So...you're telling me that I'm part fairy or something? It's not like I have pointed ears or anything."

The witch sighed. "Pointed ears? I do not know where you find these strange ideas. Nevertheless, I would recommend you stay away from steel from now on, Utena Visvaldas."

"It's funny...I know all this should mean something to me," Utena said, "But to me, it just sounds like a sad story that happened to someone else. Gives me a goal, at least. So I'm not completely aimless here." Utena sighed wearily. She had hoped it would have ignited something unknown in her heart, melting away her haze to uncover hidden memory. She was glad she at least had some knowledge of her origins–even if it could not explain how or why she had come here–but thought the truth would have made her feel full, whole. Instead, it had only brought forth more questions. "Well, can I at least get dressed now?"

"Aye, aye, put your clothes on," said the witch, not even looking at Utena anymore. She was busying herself with her shelves full of potions, studying them and deciding which would be used.

Utena eagerly began dressing. She quickly slipped her tunic over her head, which puffed up any stray wisps of hair that escaped her braids. "I'm surprised you don't need a urine sample after all that," Utena joked, jumping slightly to draw up her stockings.

The witch stopped stirring her potion and recoiled, for once struck momentarily silent. After staring wordlessly at the Prince, she said, "I never thought you would be quite this...queer when I first heard the story, you know."

Utena gave her a sheepish look. "Sorry." Now finished dressing, she sat down again at the stool.

The witch sighed, walking towards her. "I must keep reminding myself of your condition." She carefully smoothed out Utena's hair, handing the draught of potion to her with the other hand. "Drink this. It will bring you luck and good health."

Utena took the drink hesitantly. She looked into the murky liquid and grimaced. "Not while I'm drinking it, it won't."

"Quit your fussing,"said the witch, now beginning to sound like an admonishing mother. "Few have the honor of it. Drink it quickly if it is so distasteful."

Utena followed her advice, exhaling deeply before gulping down the thick liquid. It was painfully bitter and tasted like rotting leaves. She could not help but grimace as she finally pulled the vial away from her mouth. "There," Utena said, struggling to sound triumphant instead of sickly.

"Good, good," the witch said, taking the vial from her and quickly tucking it away on a shelf. She returned to stand in front of Utena, drawing the Prince's hands into hers. The witch looked into Utena's eyes with an expression of earnestness. "Listen to me, child. You may not quite understand, but take heed. The mysteries are strong in you. Be careful of what you say, else it come true."

"What do you mean?" Utena asked, genuine confusion evident in her voice.

"The world you live in is made up of stories. The words which tell them control everything. The stories have been a bit queer since the Great Disruption, but it is still true nonetheless. The right turn of words–with enough earnestness–does not just make an animal talk or a scarecrow dance. Those are mere tricks, child. Say nothing unless it is truly meant, for you do not know when you might use just the right words. It is strong in you, and you may be treading upon dangerous ground soon enough. Here," said the witch, lifting up a leather strap from around her neck. On it hung a metallic disk with an etched symbol Utena could not discern. "Wear this. It will protect you, but only so much, child. You still must take heed."

"T-thank you," Utena said, stunned. She lowered her head so the witch could slip the leather cord onto her neck. This was not quite the cold and remote woman she had met yesterday. She was still often shocked and disapproving, but more of her softness began to shine through.

"And, above all else, child," the witch said passionately, cupping Utena's face with both hands. "You must believe. In times of danger, listen to no one but the spirit inside you. Trust that it will not lead you astray. Will you swear this?"

"Y-yes," she said. It sounded like solid advice, but the passion in the witch's voice confused her. It seemed so sudden and uncharacteristic. Like everything else in this world, she simply could not understand.

"Do so and all will be well," said the witch, slipping her fingers away from Utena's face. "Now, we should be going. I have done more than asked for. Come, Her Ladyship surely wishes to see you." The witch rose up and beckoned the Prince out of the house. Utena followed as if in a daze.

The walk did not seem as long now that Utena knew their destination. She now knew how to walk on the thick underbrush, to follow closely the witch's movements in the mist. It seemed as if the branches and vines no longer tried to catch her, as if she had already reached what they had been protecting.

"Um, I know they call you just 'The Witch' all the time, but well, if you don't mind me asking, what's your name? I just feel so weird talking to you all day and not knowing your name."

The witch simply stared at Utena for a moment. "Well, it is not often used..."

"But they had to have called you by your name when you were a kid."

"They called me Witch-child."

It was now Utena's turn to stare. "You mean...I mean, come on, your parents had to have–"

"They called me Witch-child."

Utena paused for a moment in shock."But...why?"

The witch said nothing for a moment, her mouth drawn taut with an emotion that Utena could not grasp. "It is said that a witch is not so much a person as a vessel for the divine mysteries. There is no need for a name except to distinguish a witch from other witches. We are chosen from birth for this gift."

Utena gave her a puzzled look. "By who? How do they know?"

"By another witch, when the need is great and the shadows answer the call. I had chosen and taught one myself, in the city of my birth. When Her Ladyship came to rule the little village of Flussegen, I knew I had to come. I trained another to serve in my place."

"How...how do you know which kid to pick? How did you know you had to come here?"

"It is not something you could understand," said the witch quickly, then paused and turned to stare into Utena's eyes. "Ah, but what is certain about the future anymore? Perhaps you may understand one day, perhaps not. It is not my place to say. Nevertheless, it is not something that can be told."

Utena nodded, her gaze shifting downward. She was silent for a moment before looking up at the witch again. "So...um, will you tell me your name?"

The witch smiled. "Sunniva. I am Sunniva, the witch of Flussegen."

The forest gradually began to thin. They approached the fortress of white-washed stones. Utena had noticed it before as a destination marker to meet the witch, but the structure seemed much more imposing now that she knew she must enter it. Flags–yellow lions against a red backdrop–flapped weakly in the afternoon wind. Utena guessed it to be three stories tall, perhaps higher. At the very top–just near the battlements–she could barely make out the form of armed guards.

"Here, child," said Sunniva, drawing her towards the lower end of a side wall. She walked towards a fore-building, greeting the guard there amicably. He opened the door readily and bowed with a smile for both of them.

"Aren't you supposed to enter in the front? With the big gates?" Utena asked. At least, that was always how she imagined it to be in stories, and she supposed the giant wooden doors she had seen must be used for something.

The witch chuckled slightly. "Perhaps if you were like every other royalty, coming with horses and a large retinue. But it is only you and I, and there is no need for such trouble." Sunniva lifted up her skirts and began to walk the stairs, confidently walking straight through the darkness. Utena carefully followed, walking upwards towards the light at the end of the tunnel.

They entered into a gigantic hall, the walls whitewashed and wainscoted. Most of it was an expanse of empty space. A fireplace smoldered inside the left wall, a great mural painted around it. Utena could make out the meanings of most of the forms in the mural, some not. There were painted pumpkin coaches, country children, forest animals, fairies, and elegant princesses with their saviors on white horses. Utena stood there for a moment transfixed. They were rendered with careful detail, the brush strokes turning paint into wisps of a maiden's hair or the matted red fur of a fox. The largest and most lovingly rendered was the image of two children running from a house of gingerbread and candy.

Utena turned when she heard the swish of fabric echoing in the chamber. She immediately stood up straight. A woman slipped from the huge throne and onto the stone dais. She was half-aware that others were silently playing chess on the platform, but Utena's nervous attention was stuck fast to the woman walking towards her.

"Your Highness! I am Agathe, Duchess of Flussegen. I welcome you to our humble home," said the woman as she drew up her skirts and bowed. Her veil fell far over her shoulders as she did so.

Utena moved to do the same, then realized she had no skirt with which to do so. In her confusion and fear, she hurriedly clasped her hands together and bowed as she was used to doing in Japan.

"Oh, Your Highness, you are too kind!" said Agathe with surprise as she rose, "You honor us with your presence, there is no need!" A wimple and veil completely covered the woman's hair and neck, a golden coronet set upon the top of her head. Her features were sharp and defined, with high cheekbones bearing up her dark blue eyes.

"It's, uh, my pleasure," Utena sputtered.

"Please, stay here as long as you like. It is an honor to not only have such a noteworthy Prince in our home, but one which is responsible for our town's welfare. Ask anything you wish of us, Your Highness," she said, arm outstretching to welcome her farther into the chamber.

A whirlwind of yellow silk and brocade suddenly swept towards Utena. "Good afternoon to you, Your Highness,"said Lady Flussegen's daughter with a honeyed voice. Her smile was tight and full of false earnestness. She curtsied elegantly, drawing up her skirts as if she reveled in the motion. Her headdress and clothing made her mother's robes look plain in comparison. The edge of her gown tried to push others out of her way at every opportunity. Her head was adorned with a headdress that made her head seem heart-shaped, a veil atop the two beaded protrusions. Long fluffy blond hair swept out from underneath it. Utena could only imagine how she looked at a ball.

"I have heard much of your grand adventures," she said, seeming coy. She again rose to her full height. "I am Lady Gretel of Flussegen. Please excuse my attire, I was not expecting you so soon!"

"No, you're not..." Utena blurted out, eyes wide. "You're...you're Nanami Kiryuu. You're..."

"Oh, what jest!" said Gretel, trying to hide her confusion. She daintily drew her hand up to her mouth to laugh. "Your Highness has such a sense of humor!"

"Are you so eager to escape?" said a masculine voice farther back in the room, partially obscured by Gretel's huge dress. "You take every opportunity to evade a good game of chess, Gretel."

A man stood up from his chair at the chess table, dressed in embroidered tunics and brown leggings. Utena could see the confidence in his strut as he walked towards them. He nearly put a hand to his sister's shoulder, but withdrew it upon noticing Utena. "Ah, you must be our guest," he said, flashing a rakish smile. His facial features were sharply defined, bearing a striking resemblance to his mother. His back began to lower out of reflex before he stopped himself and said with a little chuckle,"Forgive me, Your Highness, if I am unsure whether to treat you as a Lady or a Prince."

Utena wanted to faint, or shake convulsively, or run–perhaps all at the same time. How could she have not guessed it earlier, looking at Agathe? She recognized the voice, the face, the presence with striking clearness. This must mean others are here as well, but how? And why, dear God, out of all the people she could have encountered did the Kiryuus have to be the first?

She then realized with horror that not only was he waiting for an answer, but that she had no answer for him. Neither option sounded fitting. The title of Prince shamed her, and being a Lady only made her compare herself to the feminine monstrosity in yellow silk that lay before her. "I'm, um, not very particular about formalities," she said uneasily, hoping that was enough.

"Then forgive me, Your Highness, for the confusion," he said, his hand elegantly sweeping to the side as he bowed before her. With the other hand, he gently took her hand in his and planted a small kiss upon her ring. His long red hair fell over his face as he did so. The action gave Utena a deep ache of deja-vu. "I am Sir Hansel of Flussegen, and am honored to have finally met you."

Utena desperately wanted to scream. Was this her punishment for failing, to live with the Kiryuus for all eternity? But more importantly, why were they calling themselves those names? "I'm, uh, Utena," she said, supposing she would have to play along.

The witch cleared her throat. "If I am no longer needed..."

"You may go, if you wish. There is nothing more I ask of you," said Agathe kindly. "Your fee is with the steward."

"I will be in my home if needed," said Sunniva, turning back to Utena. "Remember what I have told you."

"Thank you," Utena said, trying to put on a cheerful smile for Sunniva.

The witch returned her smile with one of her own before drawing her hood over her head and walking out a separate door to collect her earnings. Once the doors were closed and she was finally left alone, she lay her tired body against the door and curved her hands into strange symbols only she would understand. "Shadows, take me when you wish. I have done what I have come to do. I have seen the face of the Avatar."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

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Author's Notes: Ha, told you guys I wasn't abandoning it! It sucks having to get everything back up and going again, but I love this story. Thanks to all those who came back and read it, and to seeker71 for my the first review since! Utena is beginning to realize that things are even less like she remembered, but perhaps that is not a bad thing after all.

* * *

"'Tis morning, Your Ladyship," the servant said, thrusting open the curtains. Light flooded the room. Utena groaned and recoiled, drawing the pillow over her face. 

"Lady Gretel will be entertaining you this morning while Lady Agathe and Lord Hansel meet with their attendants," she said, ushering in servants with heavy buckets of water. They lumbered over to the brass tub, the water rocking inside the vessels. A look of relief blossomed on their faces once they finally spilled their buckets into the tub, sending it rolling across the metal.

"That doesn't exactly motivate me," Utena said groggily. She struggled to lift herself up, the sheets falling away from her limbs.

"Well, what is..." the servant blurted, "You're already dressed!"

Utena looked up at the servant covered from head to toe in plain white cloth. "Well, I don't really have any clothes except this."

The servant stared at her quizzically for a moment. "Well, I suppose it makes sense. You've been sleepin' for an awful long time, after all. I'll tell Lady Gretel after you've had a good bath. I'm sure they'd want to see to that."

Utena shakily rose from the bed and walked towards the bath. Before she made it half way there, the chambermaids immediately began peeling off her clothes. "Hey, hey, what are you doing!"

"Undressing you, Your Ladyship," said a servant, confused that the question even had to be asked.

"Why does everyone in this world want to undress me?" she muttered to herself before reluctantly lifting up her arms to let them do their job. She supposed she had to get used to it. Although, once they were done, Utena felt surprisingly unashamed to stand naked in a room full of servants. Perhaps it was having to undress for the witch yesterday, or perhaps it was another odd twinge of familiarity creeping in.

Utena eagerly leapt into the tub. She exhaled deeply, grateful to finally have a warm bath. It helped wake her, lightened the load on her eyelids. A chambermaid handed her a bar of soap, which leapt from her grasp and plopped with a splash into the tub. Utena followed it underwater with her hands until she finally held it again and began scrubbing herself vigorously.

Once she was finally done, the water was a murky gray from sixteen years of grime and sweat. Utena had never felt so refreshed in her entire life. She rose from the tub, sending a huge wave rocking across the bath. Water rolled over her, quickly dripping away. A chambermaid dried her with a wool towel and she was redressed in the same clothes. Now that she was clean, the old garments felt stiff and greasy.

Gretel soon entered with a man, the keeper of the wardrobe. She was already dressed just as finely as she had been yesterday. "It is my pleasure, Your Highness, to provide you with whatever you may need. I will be sure to make you the best-dressed lady in any kingdom!" Gretel said passionately. Utena grimaced.

The keeper of the wardrobe placed a stool in the center of the room and unfurled a roll of measuring tape. "Please stand here, Your Ladyship," the man said, gesturing to Utena. She obeyed.

"Now, we shall need a gorgeous ballgown," Gretel began, watching the attendant take her measurements. "We shall have a grand ball a week from now, to celebrate both your presence and all of our awakenings. Forgive me, Your Highness, that such could not be planned earlier."

"I don't know if I want to wear a ballgown, to be honest," Utena said, hoping to escape being used as Gretel's dress-up doll. "Can't I just wear something like this? With leggings and stuff?"

Gretel's mouth dropped open. It stayed like that for at least a minute, until Utena thought that she was beginning to look like a fish. Gretel suddenly found herself once again, her eyes darting back and forth as she finally lifted a hand to cover her gaping mouth. "I...er...well..." she stammered, dumbfounded.

"I guess that's a 'No.'"

"Nay, nay, Your Highness, it is whatever you wish! Though, I suppose if that is what you desire, we should just let you wear Hansel's old clothes," she said pointedly, disgust beginning to seep into her expression.

"We gave those away long ago, Your Ladyship," said the keeper of the wardrobe.

Gretel huffed and rolled her eyes. "Well, then just make her what she wants. Tell me, Your Highness, do you intend to lead or follow when dancing at the ball?"

"I...what? Oh, I don't know. Maybe both," Utena said innocently, failing to see Gretel's verbal barb. "I mean, if it's so important, you can make me one or two dresses just in case."

"If that is what you wish," said Gretel blankly.

"To be honest, Your Ladyship, it will be difficult to finish this many clothes along with your wedding dress," said the keeper of the wardrobe, "I am not accustomed to such a large request."

"Wedding dress?" Utena asked.

"Oh, yes! I do not intend to brag," Gretel beamed, her expression betraying her words, "But I am betrothed to Prince Alaric. Soon we will be able to entertain each other as princesses, on equal footing. Would that not be marvelous?"

"Great," Utena said, thankful that it seemed no one in this world properly understood sarcasm.

"It was lucky that I woke up when I did. If I would have slept for too long, why, my chance could have been stolen away from me! Oh, to think of it!"

"I'm surprised you're willing to leave your brother behind," Utena said frankly. She lifted her arm up higher for the man and his measuring tape, almost seeming to know the order with which he would go. Her own mind frightened her here.

"Why?" Gretel asked, cocking an eyebrow. "It is every lady's dream to be given such an opportunity. Perhaps, being born with such an illustrious title, you cannot quite understand my position."

"No, no, it's not," Utena answered quickly, "I mean, it's not that. It's an opportunity...I guess, and I'm sure he's a very nice man. Still, it doesn't seem like you to want to leave your brother for any reason."

Gretel looked at her strangely, then slowly began to become more flustered. "Does not seem like myself? Have the servants been speaking ill of me again?"

Utena noticed the 'again,' but decided to say nothing. "No, no, it's not that! It's just, I, uh, oh, you wouldn't believe me."

"Please, Your Highness, if you would. I will do my best to trust in you."

"Well...I'm not sure if the witch told you, but I can't remember anything about life here. All I remember is what I saw in my dreams while I slept."

"How queer! I slept like the dead, only remembering blackness. And how unfortunate for you, Your Highness. That at least explains why you are a bit...queer," Gretel said, obviously still struggling to be polite. "But still, how could you have known that?"

Utena stammered for a moment, unsure of herself. "Well, in my dream, you were there. And I knew you in my dream, and you...uh, loved your brother a lot."

"Oh, oh! So you are like a seer!" Gretel began jumping up and down, for once acting like a kid instead of a proper lady. "Tell me, will my marriage be fruitful? Will he be kind? Will I one day become Queen?"

"I, well, I can only tell you what I saw in my dream," Utena said sheepishly, "And you weren't married then. I can only tell you what you were like then."

"Oh," Gretel said, obviously disappointed. "Well...aye, I loved my brother much more when I was younger. I could not bear the thought of parting with him. However, I am a lady now, and have outgrown such childishness. I now know what is truly important." Utena stared at Gretel–the former Nanami Kiryuu–and was absolutely dumbfounded.

"I am done, Your Ladyship," said the keeper of the wardrobe as he took a little bow. Utena stepped down from the stool, allowing the man to take it and quickly leave the room.

"I am sorry for you having to wait for your clothes, Your Highness. You may help yourself to mine in the meantime, if you wish," Gretel said, her tone sugar-sweet.

A servant-girl waited just outside the door, left ajar by the exiting master of the wardrobe. "Excuse me, Your Ladyship," she said shyly, peeking into the room.

""Were you told that I should not be disturbed? I am entertaining a very important guest.

Go and bother my brother," Gretel said dismissively.

"I'm sorry, Your Ladyship, but the steward turned us away. He said that they're discussin' very important business," said the servant, shrinking in her own sheepishness.Gretel exhaled sharply. "What is it?"

"A peasant is outside the gates demanding work. She refuses to leave."

"Well, do we not have guards for a reason?"

"Aye, Your Ladyship."

"Wait!" Utena blurted out, her face full of concern, "Don't you have some sort of job? This is a big place. I'm sure you could use another worker somewhere. The kitchen? Somewhere?"

Gretel's eyes narrowed. "Your Highness is much too kind." She sighed, obviously exasperated. "If that is what you wish, then it shall be done. Wait here, please. You need not bother yourself with little troubles."

"Actually, if you don't mind," Utena said, not trusting the word of Nanami Kiryuu, "I would like to come with you."

She could nearly see Gretel's teeth gritting behind her lips. "Of course! If that is what you wish." Gretel's head whipped around to face the servant, the girl responding with a cower. "Bring her to the kitchen. I will present the new servant to the cook." She turned back towards Utena, trying again to compose her face with a smile. "Shall we go?"

Utena followed Gretel on an unknown course to the first floor, through dank hallways and down dark stairs. Following the Flussegen lady's quick gait soon led them to the kitchen. It was full of thick smoke and spiced scents, the din of clinking silverware and the shouting cook the only sounds to be heard. Countless maids walked back and forth with dishes from the scullery, more stirring the huge pots hanging from the hearths.

"Well, then, where is she? She is trying my patience," Gretel complained. She then craned her white neck to see the servant, hurriedly walking with the peasant-girl in hand. "Ah, cook! Come here for a moment! I have a new scullery maid for you!"

Utena could not help but notice the quick and graceful movements of the peasant-girl. She did not lumber about like most field workers, nor stumble from years of malnourishment. Unusually pale arms slid out from the ragged cloak of donkey hide.

"What's your name?" Utena asked, bending her head to catch a glimpse of the girl's face beneath the cloak.

"Call me Donkeyskin," she said quickly, emotionless. She paused for a moment, realizing the incongruous nature of Utena's girlish voice and masculine clothes. Orange-red frizzy curls spilled from her hood as she peered up to look. Slowly, through their mutual curiosity, they revealed each other.

Utena's eyes widened. The marks of soot and dirt could only barely hide the pale perfection of the woman's features. Her large eyes were narrowed, green and cold. Her lips were slightly thin, as if stretched taut by a lifetime of frowns and forbidding glares. She had the air of confidant indifference befitting a princess...or a model. Utena knew the quick grace of such an accomplished fencer could not be so easily hidden.

"Juri. You're Juri Arisugawa," Utena spoke. She only stood there dumbfounded, staring at the former Student Council member. Donkeyskin's expression turned to surprise, then soured.

"I am a common beggar," she replied curtly, "I assure you of that."

"Well...maybe now, but..." Utena spat out, feeling her confidence somehow melt under the eyes of a commoner. "But you were Juri before..." She wracked her brain for some sort of recollection to the name 'Donkeyskin,' but nothing seemed to form into the shape of a story like Hansel and Gretel.

"What are you going on about?" Gretel asked, exasperated. "She has work to do. You did ask me to give her a job, did you not?" Gretel's eyes and mouth narrowed, like a cat's face tightening before the attack. "Your Highness has a rather disconcerting habit of renaming everyone you meet. Is this some symptom of forgetfulness as well?"

"I, er, well...yeah, it kinda is," Utena said, simply giving up trying to explain it.

"Perhaps breakfast would do you good, Your Highness," Gretel said, straining to regain her composure, "It is often difficult to think on an empty stomach."

* * *

A vial of potion broke, dropped to the forest floor. A horse snorted and stamped the ground. The others followed suit before the driver of the chariot silenced them with a pull of the reins. "I swear, I have seen no one," the witch said, her voice shaking. 

"Really, you have no reason to be so withdrawn," Akio replied, flashing a charismatic smile, "All I am trying to do is look for my dear sister."

"I am a witch; you think I do not know what happened?" she said, voice quivering, "Do you think I don't know what you have become? What you sister did?"

"We have had a misunderstanding and a few mishaps, of course," he said, placing a hand over his chest plate of black metal, "Of which I will acknowledge were mostly my fault. But reports of it, I must say, have been greatly exaggerated. That is why I am trying to find her, you understand; I feel it is time we had a heart-to-heart and place all this behind us. It would be the best for the kingdoms if we came to an understanding, wouldn't you agree?"

"That was not a 'mishap.' It is the greatest story of witch-lore; you cannot convince one of us of anything else. Please, you do not have to waste words, Dread Lord."

He chuckled. "Very well; I do not have time to waste anyhow." His smile suddenly turned vulpine. "You are aware, I'm sure, that in some worlds there is a legend that God created his universe in seven days," Akio said, waving his hand slightly as if to illustrate it, "And I have broken my own apart in half that time. It is shameful that these times require such _destructive_ methods."

"I was not even aware of your sister's return, much less have I seen her." The witch now had her head slightly bowed, not wanting to look at his face any longer. "As for Utena Visvaldas, you must know the stories as well as I. She probably has not yet gone far from her resting place."

"I hope I will find that you are being truthful," he replied, the morning sun glinting off his armor. "If you see my sister, tell her that I need to speak to her. Immediately. Please do what you can to make that happen." His smile faded as he turned forward to snap the reins, urging his team of horses forward. The witch ran off as the pounding of hooves receded farther and farther into the woods.

* * *

"I am glad you are Prince enough to enjoy archery," Hansel said as he took an arrow from the quiver and nocked it in the arrow rest. "With just Gretel and my mother, I do not often have the pleasure of practicing with someone else. The only activities they will join me in are hawking and chess." 

Utena smiled awkwardly. Archery with Touga was the best option she had, which was not saying much. Doing anything with Nanami, even eating, just irritated either of them. Lady Agathe seemed to be constantly busy. Even sneaking off to try and talk to Juri was fruitless, the new scullery maid only dismissing her with an icy, "I must concentrate on my work, Your Ladyship."

Touga had suggested they go hawking, but the idea of a craggy bird of prey at the end of Utena's arm alarmed her. He seemed quite shocked at her polite refusal. That was followed by the suggestion of horseback riding through the countryside, an activity which Utena only had bad memories of. She could not imagine how she managed to ride across kingdoms when she lived in this world. Archery was his last suggestion. She had practiced a bit of Kyudo archery at Ohtori and was confidant that the mechanics would be similar enough for her to master. She positioned her legs to the side and reached back to withdraw an arrow from her quiver.

"Even so, Gretel was never one for chess. At times she is too ladylike for her own good," Hansel said, releasing the string and shooting the arrow towards the target. It landed left to the center, making a dull "Thunk!" as it made contact.

"What do you mean by 'for her own good?'" Utena asked suspiciously.

"Why, to have any fun. Gretel just wants to do needlepoint and the like," he said, taking out another arrow.

"And talk about her wedding plans," Utena muttered as she shot the arrow into the very center of the target. Her eyes widened slightly. She never remembered being quite that good.

Hansel heard her remark nonetheless, and could not help but laugh. "Say no more, I understand completely. What luck, to finally find an honest royal." He withdrew his arm, tightening the string. "And a good shot, Your Grace. It is no wonder you became a Prince with that sort of skill."

Utena shrugged her shoulders slightly. She gripped the bow tightly and drew the string taut.

"Aye, I wish you could have seen my sister before the engagement," Hansel said as he shot off another arrow, getting slightly closer to Utena's perfect shot. "With how she dresses now, it is easy to see she cannot wait to become a princess. Before, she was not quite so vain."

Utena nearly choked herself trying to keep in her laughter and accidentally shot her arrow into the far clearing.

Hansel smiled. "I see Your Grace finds that hard to believe."

Utena exhaled sharply. "Honestly? Yes," she said, smiling back at him.

He chuckled. "True, she does enjoy her newfound status. However, peasants have no choice but austerity. Until our story unfolded, she was just like any other young girl."

"Your family was poor?" Utena said, stopping in mid-reach towards the quiver.

"What, you do not know the story?" Hansel said, surprised. "The witch told us you could not remember anything, but I did not realize you were at such a disadvantage. You have not heard the story of Hansel and Gretel?"

Utena sighed and drew out the arrow. "I've heard it, but the story doesn't seem to work here. Your mother doesn't seem very evil, isn't dead, and the stories never made Hansel and Gretel into noblemen."

"Ah, yes. You know the old tales then. Things have been a bit strange since the Great Disruption," he said as he nocked his arrow. "When our village-witch named us, our mother was very frightened of fate turning her against us. However, it was not to be. Our father...was the one who wanted us turned out into the woods once the plague came." His eyes narrowed. He released the arrow and it soared into the air. "After the story took its course, as it says, we were left with the witch's treasure. With that, we bought many acres of land. What would take merchants many generations to acquire, we had just stumbled upon."

He reached for another arrow as he continued to calmly explain. "As many others have done, our lands and riches bought us the position. We had the luck to find our fortunes much quicker than most other newly-noble families. The Earl that ruled over us had died of the plague, without a son to his name. The arrangement was simply sensible. Our King, Gods bless him, is a kind ruler who is not mired deep in tradition. I served as a squire in the King's court, and my sister was engaged to his son. Soon, I am certain, he will arrange a bride for me as well."

Utena shot an arrow into the ground. Hansel turned to her, an eyebrow cocked. She looked up at him, mouth agape. For a moment, she could speak nothing but wordless eruptions. Finally, she managed, "Has this world made you all crazy!"

"I am not quite sure what you mean, Your Grace," he said, loosening the string again as he stared at her, "Perhaps this is another misunderstanding arising from your memory. It is a shame that you are forced to undergo such terrible–"

"No, no!" Utena insisted, cutting him off as she put her hand on her hip. "I remember perfectly! You, of all people, getting married? Don't make me laugh! Who are you trying to fool? You couldn't even stay with one woman for a week!"

Hansel closed his eyes, brows furrowing slightly. "I am sorry, Your Grace, but now you do me injury. I am proud to serve my Lord in any way, and I am sure he will make an adequate choice."

"That's bullshit, Touga!" she yelled, "That's bullshit, and you know it." Hansel paused and stared, obviously disturbed. There was silence for a moment. Utena stared back icily. "Well, what? You know I'm right, don't you?"

"Who...are you talking to?" he asked.

Utena's eyes widened. She said nothing for a moment, unsure of what to say until she sputtered out, "I...I don't know."

"Is it...do visions overtake you? Have you entered your dreamworld waking? I have heard of seers who speak like this."

"I..." Utena muttered. Perhaps it would be easier for them to understand, to sympathize with her plight if they thought she could see into the future. But no matter how much she rationalized the sensibility of lying, she could not help but try to explain. "I...I've known you before. In my dreams."

Hansel stared at her for a moment, eyes widened. Finally, he stepped closer to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You have known something which could not be known, so you must speak the truth. Please, Your Grace, try to understand. Gretel and I have both had a rough time adjusting to our new status, and there were certainly times we are not proud of. However, my knighting was not long before my long sleep, and perhaps my oath has driven some sense into me. Perhaps I have taken the image of a courtly lady in the romances to heart, and that is what prevents me. All I know is that I have realized my transgression. "

Utena stared up at him with the confused expression of a child. She searched his face for signs of sincerity, able to find no more than a gleam of something in his eyes. She always hated this about him, the indecipherable nature of his face. Normally, an expression of reform from Touga would be immediately distrusted; but in such a strange world, with everyone she knew already acting so differently, she could be certain of so little. A sign, no matter how small, could mean everything.

He withdrew his hands and straightened his posture. "I hope you understand my position. Whatever the nature of your dream, you must realize that it is a precious gift. Nothing in this world is without reason, and I am sure this knowledge will become quite valuable. "

"You're both so different," she muttered, "How...How could this have happened? I just don't understand..."

"My sister is not one for self-reflection," he said, the fact suddenly making him smile, "So I cannot tell you why she has changed so. As for me, I can tell you little more than what I have said. I suspect both can simply be attributed to growth, leaving our childhood behind." He withdrew further and spread his arms wide, his smile broadening. "But what sort of host am I, letting the conversation become so dreary? This has obviously upset you, and for that, I apologize. Now, let us return to practicing and cheerier conversation. Perhaps you can regale us with tales from your dream another time, when the memory is not quite so fresh."

"It's nothing important," she said wearily. She again took the shooting stance and withdrew an arrow from the quiver.

"Oh, do not be so pessimistic, Your Grace," he said as he drew his arm back and tightened the string.

"Could you please stop that?" she said, a bit curt. Her eyes concentrated on the shot. "All that 'Your Grace' stuff. Titles...bother me."

Hansel drew his arm forward again, still gripping the arrow between his index and middle fingers. He watched her as she fired the arrow. It landed slightly off-target to the right this time. "I am sorry if I have offended you," he said, his tone now slightly miffed. "I only meant to be polite. It seems we cannot understand each other's habits."

"No, no, it's just..." she paused for a moment, unsure of how to explain. "Look, I'm sorry. I just have some quirks from my other life."

"Other life? I did not imagine it was that complex," he said, his tone softening again. Hansel finally drew back the string. Nothing was said until he shot the arrow, landing still to the left of the target. "Although I know you must feel out of sorts here without proper memory, you must remember how important dreams are. Though it may not seem true, your dream may hold a key to the future."

"I'm sorry, but I don't think you understand. It really doesn't tell me anything. The less said about it, the better," she said, bitterness working its way into her tone unwittingly.

Hansel nodded. "Then I will not speak of it again, Your-ah, I mean, Utena."

Utena sighed and dropped her hands, bow and arrow still tightly clutched. She slowly swung her head up to look at him. "You are Hansel of Flussegan, right? No one else?"

His eyebrows rose. "Well, of course."

"Then that is how it will stay. I'll know you only as that," she said, mustering a smile.

Hansel returned her smile with one of his own. "I am glad of it, Utena," he said with a nod. They continued the match in silence, Hansel being the first to nock his bow. They drew their bows taut and shot at the same time, both of their arrows flying straight into the center of the target.


End file.
